The Intensity
by Last.one.02
Summary: One of them is sick. The other is telling her the truth. 2 characters discover something about themselves. Since it is for the no names challenge, no names are mentioned.
1. Hope is the destination that we seek

**from "****Intensity" **

Hope is the destination that we seek.  
>Love is the road that leads to hope.<br>Courage is the motor that drives us.  
>We travel out of darkness into faith.<p>

***NCIS***

Hope is the destination that we seek.

The fact is that everybody has hopes and dreams and little dramas we face every day. I watch them struggling every day. It's part of my job, it's like the unwritten part to be a the one to listen all the agents. I give them advise, suggest to drink scotch, vodka, bourbon, gin... whatever they prefer. I know I'm not supposed to do that, but still I do it. Maybe because it's my duty, but mainly because they're family.

In this place everybody could go and see a professional, but no... they come to me. They come here, when they want to talk. They come here, when they are hurt. Sometimes they come just to yell at someone, because they are pissed. Of course they come to the place, where everything is old and almost not living. To a place, where everything is colder than in other rooms and smell is not so pleasant all the time.

Usually I am not here alone. I have a "wannabe" here. He'll probably take my place, when I am as old as dust and the director will send me home to spend my days out there alone. I guess I never figured it out. I never married, I never had kids, like many others. My parents are dead now, I'm not close to other living relatives. All I have is one team of people, who put their lives on line every single day. Not all of the people I'd like to see are here. There are people, who have died over the years, and who were much younger than me. They had such a potential. They might have had a family and be happy, but instead they are 6 feet under and they'll never be seen out here again.

Some people say that never is too late to make things better. It's not too late to run for your dreams. Never is too late to start over. Yes, people usually say that. I do not agree. It's not too late, until I come to action, because then something is wrong.

I can hear and see the doors opening. Without looking I know who it is. He is the future. He will do great things one day. He'll be a legend just like his mentor is. He'll do good. He is one of few people I actually like talking too. He is one of few, who comes to me just to talk. Mostly about some problems, but he pays a visit to me, and that means a lot.

"Something is wrong," a younger man says and pulls my attention to present.

"What do you mean, my dear boy ?" I ask.

"I can feel it. Something is not right. Something bad is about to come. I just can't... I have a feeling like I can change it, if only I knew what it is," he says to me.

"Whatever happens, happens. If you can change it, then you probably will do it," I say reassuringly.

The boy nods and lefts with a wave.

A wave !

In olden days we used to say bye, wish something good. Maybe ask if you wanna get together after work ? But no, nothing like this at these days. Or I'm just getting old. I don't know yet. Sometimes I feel like I am left out. My friends from work are hanging out in the pub, drinking. At the same time I am at home drinking tea or reading some old books.

Still I'm not the only one, who is not invited out. Another person is there. I like her a lot. She is a good friend of mine, like a daughter at some days. I'd probably be chasing after her, but there is the age difference and we all know her heart is captured by a mutual acquaintance of ours. The woman is strong. She is tough. She has a plan for everything, the only thing is that, when her plan is accomplished, then she searching. She doesn't know what to do, but I have a feeling that she knows just what to do.

When you talk of the wolf... Doors are opened again and the woman in question walked through them. I gotta admit she is gorgeous woman, even if she is not 20 anymore. She is wearing that office suit and she looks great with it. She is classy, but the same casual. She is tough, but there's something that makes people still go to her. Most of all, she is fair. She knows how to do her job and she does it well.

I like that her hair is long again and that she dyed it back the way they were before. Though I miss the curls, that fell on her shoulders so loosely. I miss the way her hair made every man insane. I miss the way she managed to make the time stop, so even I took my time to admire my friend.

Over the years that redhead managed to find a place in my heart. No, I am not in love with her. Maybe at some point I might be, but that is a friendly love, like family. I look at her and I see a daughter. I hug her and I feel warmth. I kiss her cheek and I feel lucky. That's how she makes me feel. She is special, and for me it doesn't matter what people say about her. I love her and that's not gonna change.

"Hey, you busy ?" she asks me and pulls me from my thoughts.

"The difference between you and the others here is that they aren't going anywhere, you on the other hand have a different story to tell," I say.

She smiles. I do love that smile, though I gotta admit I don't see it as often as I would like to.

"Let's get started," she says and walks over to the table. She slowly pulls her slender figure on it and sits there like so many times before. Usually she had been injured or needed some advise, but this is different.

"Certainly my dear," I say and get my kit. I'm gonna need this. I walk quietly, which is rare, I know. Usually I like to talk about the old times, about some facts I know and are interesting, but at this moment I don't know what to talk about.

"Please don't be quiet. Tell me about something. Give me some hope. Talk about the big journey. Talk about your mother, about your home. Just something interesting. I don't wanna think about. Please distract me," she said. Her voice was trembling and she was rambling. It's so unlike her. Her strong personality always wins and she'll be a strong person. She always finds a way to better future. That's who she is

"Well. I can talk to you, but as rare as it is, I don't know what to talk about, because your situation is complicated. I have always admired your courage, your personality and your determination. You do everything as you planned. And look at you now – at the top of this agency. My dear, you fly high. I truly hope that your assumptions are wrong, because it would kill me to see you suffering like that," I say. I'm honest and I feel like she needs that sometimes. She has been under pressure for a long time. Somehow she is also left out, just like me. We both work away from the main action figures. We are the same, but then again, she wears a gun and I don't.

"I hope I am wrong. This is not the destination I wanna have. This is not my plan. But maybe it's time to give it up and live for the moment. The fact is that no plan is perfect and some distractions might come along. Things don't go as planner or we just didn't think of everything. Maybe I need a new destination," she said.

I looked at her and I know the distraction she is talking about. He has blue eyes and silver hair. We both know him. And we both know what happened, but that doesn't change the facts.

I tie her hand so the veins pop up. He cleaned her hand and then used the needle to get the blood out. I got it and that dark red fluid came from her. I took it a lot for tests. Finally I took the needle and made her lie down. I felt her searching for my hand and I give it to her. I feel her grabbing my hand and I know that she is scared.

"Now all I can do is hope," she said quietly to me. Her voice was just above the whisper.

"Hope is the destination that we seek," I say to her. I run my other hand on her other hand up and down. It seems to work, when people are afraid. I feel her getting loose a little.

She stands to sit. I protest, but not enough. She looks at her hand, that now has a white strip on it. She agrees with it and lowers her shirt so the plaster is hidden. She hops down and walks to the door. She doesn't look back, she doesn't want to break down, I know that.

"Let me know when you got the results. When I can stop hoping or seeking destination or whatever," she said and left.

"Hope is the destination that we seek," I correct her, but she is already gone.

Suddenly she was that cold person that others knew. I know she is afraid to show her weaknesses, but she shouldn't be.

"Hope is the destination that we seek," I repeat once more as I start cleaning things I used.

Now that she is gone, I feel that loneliness taking over once more, when I think that I have no-one. Sad, isn't it ?


	2. Love is the road that leads to hope

Doctors usually give bad news to people. I know it doesn't get easier in time, but it's what I can say. Today I have to break a bad news to someone. I have the tests results and unfortunately I have to tell a very bad news to my friend. She's gonna die. It's gonna be slow, painful and horrible death. I even don't wish that to my enemy, but now someone very close to me is dying of that horrible disease. She is so young, beautiful and full of unfinished business, and she might never have the chance to finish them.

I have been waiting the whole day, because I don't have the heart to tell her. I am educated man. I have seen world, I am experienced. I have done much bad things and some good too. I have killed and I have saved. I have broken bad news before, but never to someone so close to me.

Somehow I feel that she reminds me of me. No family. Her father's death was very tragical and full of questions – I think she believes what she wants to and others believe what they're told. She never talks about her mother, but I assume she was a beautiful woman. No siblings and I don't think that she has close relatives. Work is her life, has always been. It was hard to be in touch with people, when you are undercover in Europe and can't contact anyone in States. I guess that's how she lost most of her friends. Doesn't matter if she wants it or not, she is part of this family.

Yes, this family is complicated. The eldest – me, I am like a grandfather – old and wise. Then there are mother and father – I call it when emerald meets blue. They are like fire and ice, but somehow they would make great parents in life outside the agency. Here they 4 kids plus the one, who is dead now. Of course the first kid to mention is charming, childish and playboy alike, but a decent guy, when he needs to me. He is also the expert of movies. He may say foolish things all the time and earn head-slaps often, but he is a great man. Then there is another boy – he is geeky and into writing. He is basically the opposite to his older brother. He is sweet and nice and usually under the attacks from his so called brother and sisters. One of the girls works with Daddy and brothers, but the other is usually doing things for them, but not with them. The girl with deep black hair is always cheerful, she has her own style, her own view of things and others accept it. She is amazingly smart and good at talking. The other girl is dangerous of course, but she is from a different world. She is nothing like others, but somehow her fit was nice. She and Mommy were close.

That makes quite a few people. Everybody knew that there has always been attraction between them. Only one, who doesn't have a possible love attraction anywhere is me. I am old and grandfather alike person. They love me, but just as a friend. That's why I feel like sometimes I am not part of them. Also I don't risk my life every day like they do, I have never killed someone with the gun they use, I don't chase criminals or hack computers. I discover the secrets human body has to offer and nothing else. I can say the cause of death, the time of death and sometimes even the way murder was committed, but I won't analyze the samples or interrogate for information. I just do my own thing and sometimes play doctor out my sacred place. But when I do, then usually I have bad news or I have made an mistake or I just feel like breathing some warm air, when it doesn't smell like death.

I know they all have left, except one. My fiery redhead is waiting in her office for me to come and break the bad news for her. It breaks my heart to do that, but I'll do it anyway, because it's what I do. I bring bad news to people. I walk in hands with misery.

I bring myself together to do, what I have to. Slowly I gather the test results and pictures in my hand and walk to the elevator. As I push the right floor, I have the urge to run in another direction. I don't wanna do it.

**ding**

I am here. I walk out of the elevator and to the woman. I can see that the building is almost empty. Only a few agents are still working out there, none of them is family. I walk to her office. I knock softly and then enter.

She is sitting there. I can see that she has been expecting me and she has been working not to think about my news. I don't blame her, because it's what that woman of power does. We all have different ways of coping.

She looks up to me.

"Good evening my dear," I say.

"Nice evening indeed," she says. That is so unlike her – usually she calls me by my name or by my title. Sometimes she uses both of them and then she is using her title to overrule me. This time she is just scared, tired and curious, unfortunately I have answers and she will not be pleased.

"How is your night ?" I ask. I try to lighten the mood, before killing it off.

"It's been busy and long night. Beside I told you about my troubles in sleeping and I was doing some paperwork. You know my favorite agents, who always manages to piss off other agencies and I have to clean his messes. Other than that I am hoping you have some good news for me from the love we have shared over the years," she said. I almost want to run out of the office and keep her from knowing the truth. It's the parent side in me – wanting to keep the child from the truth.

"I will give you my fatherly love my dear," I say to her.

"I think I could use some hope instead," she said.

"Love is the road that leads to hope," I say to enlighten the mood, that has changed. She knows what is waiting and unfortunately I am the one telling her that.


	3. Courage is the motor that drives us

Courage is the motor that drives us.

"I got the results back," I say. I figure getting to the point is the easiest way. It will save us both... although I am not sure if there is a chance of saying it the easy way.

She just took a deep breath. I think I should go on, but looking at her, I suddenly don't want to. She seems ever more fragile than usually. She is tired and that adds something.

"It's not good. You have **Fatal Familial Insomnia** and it's very rare and very nasty disease. It's genetic and appears in around your age. You mentioned inability to sleep and some panic attacks. It's the beginning my dear friend," I say. As hard as it is, it is said.

"What about the ending ?" she asks with shaking voice.

"Well, that's the stage one with panic attacks and new phobias caused by insomnia. This lasts about 4 months," I say. My mouth is dry, so I stop. This was the easy part. I don't wanna tell her, what's going to happen.

"Stage two is getting more serious. The lack of sleep causes new problems. Panic attacks and hallucinations will appear and they won't be rare. You can't sleep at this stage. It lasts about 5 months," I say. Again I make a little pause to let her take in the information. Now it's when it really gets nasty.

"Stage three starts with total insomnia. It causes huge weight loss, on your case it is very dangerous considering your light weight. You'll also have limited mental functioning. This stage is up to 3 months," and I stop again. I really don't want to tell her about the 4th and last stage, before...

"At stage four the patient suffers from dementia and unresponsiveness. Patient becomes totally mute. This stage lasts up to 6 months. This stage is the last one and is followed by..." I say, but somehow I can't say out the words I am thinking. I need to say those, but I can't. This one word is much harder than explaining the illness.

"And then what happens ?" she asks.

I take a deep breath.

"Then patient falls into coma and dies from total insomnia. It all takes 7 to 36 months from the onset. Other symptoms that will occur are high pulse and blood pressure from inability to sleep. There are also excessive sweating and loss of coordination and motor skills. The worst part is that, while patient is suffering from dementia, he or she is aware of what is happening to him or her, while suffering from the physical agony of total sleeplessness," I say. The moment those words are out, I feel like I shouldn't have told it. But she deserves to know, no matter how horrible the truth is.

Silence occurs.

"I am screwed," she said after a long pause.

"No. You are suffering from a very rare illness – yes, but you still have time to live. You have accomplished so much. People look up to you. You are tough and incredibly brave woman. I think I own my life to you – you saved me for quite a few times in Europe. People love you, even when they aren't showing it out that much, but they do love you. They admire you and there are so many people wanting to be like you – to accomplish, what you have. They look up to you. You are great person. You have had a great, wonderful and successful life my friend. You are just leaving us behind," I say, I'm just trying to make her feel better and hopefully she'll be better.

"I am not brave. Remember I left in 1999. I am a coward – I run whenever I can. It's what I do, I lie, I hide and I make people hate me," she said.

I am hurt by these words.

"You are just powerful and sometimes you don't know what to do and we all have regrets. Everybody makes mistakes. But you have the courage to deal with your problems. You are great," I say. I truly believe what I just said. I believe in her.

Silence.

"You are right. I do have some kind of courage, but that is not enough to face it," she said.

"Courage is the motor that drives us," I say. She smiles. I smile. The sun came out, even if it is for a moment.


	4. We travel out of darkness into faith

We travel out of darkness into faith.

Silence. She is saying a word. I am scared to say anything. I am waiting for her to break the ice. She is staring a hole into wall I think. I think I'd be crying or pacing or possibly even drinking, but she is staring.

"If you don't mind, I wanna be alone," she said.

"Of course. I'll be finishing my report, so I'm here if you need me," I say and slowly walk out of the door.

"Thank you," she whispers. I barely hear that, but it means a lot.

I close the door. My legs are taking me to the elevator, my hand pushes the right button, because I am limb. I might be feeling even worse than she is and I am not the one sick.

My work place is empty. I look at one of the tables and I think that after awhile I might have her here on one of those tables. On one of those cold, metal and inhumane tables covered with other people's germs, blood and fluids. If she comes here I'll clean the table. I'll scrub the whole night, so the princess can have a table she deserves.

I can't look at myself. I can't think of myself. It's not my fault that she has it, it's her parents cause, but why I feel so guilty ? Why I feel like I made her sick ? Nothing would have happened, if it would have been diagnosed before. FFI is untreatable. There is some kind of gene therapy has been done, but it's unsuccessful. There is no cure or treatment. Sleeping pills make things worse. I know that she has about 18 months left – it's the average since the symptoms start. She has been sick for about a month, so average of 17 months left, the last months are horrible, at this moment everything is... not so horrible.

I hear the doors opening and I know it's her.

"I need to shoot something," she says.

"I'm hoping it's not me, you want to shoot," I joke.

She smiles.

"No. I wanna go at the range and I'd like you to come with me," she said slowly and seriously.

"Of course dear," I say.

As we walk to the shooting range, we are both quiet. She takes her gun. I plug my ears. Then she does it too. She shoots. The target is hit, I can see it.

She shoots again.

And again.

And again.

Then she stops.

I see the image of man coming onto us – she didn't miss at all. Target's heart and head are hit.

"You really know how to use this gun," I comment. I feel like I should say something.

"Thank you. As my disease gets worse, I won't be able to do it. I probably can't carry my handgun. I might be dangerous. I don't know why, but somehow I feel like not everything has been bad. I have done many things I have wanted to and I've had fun. I like to think that I have made the world a safer place, by taking some arms dealers out of game, killing some murderers, assassins and soviet spies. I should feel good about it. And I have loved and I have been loved. I have seen the world. But the same there are so many things I have to do. I have to train someone to take over my position, while I am disappearing. I have to apologize, I have to say some things. I have a lot to do and not so much time," she rambles, but I know she means everything she says.

This is the moment, when I realized that I am nothing like her. I have never killed someone with a gun and I don't feel good about deaths. She is so much stronger than I am. She is so much tougher than I am. And she is so much better person as I am. I guess carrying a gun, killing people and being almost killed does that to people. And I am not one of them. Now I realize, that I am like an alien between them. But I do hope that these months make me closer to her and I have the chance to learn, what's really going on in her mind, before it's too late.

"We travel out of darkness into faith," I say. Wise and true. The sun is not up, but in complete darkness even glow-worm brings light.


End file.
